At four o’clock every afternoon Dan donned huge leg guards and gauntleted gloves, grasped his broad stick and stood heroically in front of the cage which Alf had set on the gymnasium floor and did his best to stop the hard rubber disks that the others sent whizzing or hurtling at him. He got many hard knocks at first, for a puck can make one wince if it manages to come in contact with an unprotected part of one’s anatomy, and Dan had his moments of discouragement. But Alf kept him at it.
“You’re doing finely,” he declared. “And when we get out on the ice you’ll like it better.”
But they were not destined to get out on the ice just then, for there wasn’t any ice. December had apparently made up its mind to be an imitation November. It snowed now and then, and the mornings and evenings were nippy, and there were plenty of cloudy, disagreeable days, but really cold weather avoided the vicinity of Wissining until Christmas vacation arrived. Meanwhile the only event to disturb the even tenor of existence at Yardley was the Winter Debate between Oxford and Cambridge Societies. This came two days before the end of the term and for a week ahead excitement ran high. Every fellow displayed either the light blue of Cambridge or the dark blue of Oxford and enthusiasm bubbled over. No one that we know very well took part for either side. Nor do I remember now the subject for debate. But I do know that it was very weighty, and that Cambridge had the negative side, and that the judges, Messrs. Fry, Austin and Gaddis, of the faculty, remained out quite awhile before rendering their verdict. Tom said this was to avoid having to listen to the efforts of the Glee and Banjo Clubs, but Tom was insufferable that evening, anyhow. He sat with Dan and Alf and Gerald and applauded Oxford’s speakers vehemently and groaned whenever a Cambridge man opened his mouth. He pretended that there was no possibility of doubt as to the result.
“It’s all Oxford,” he declared smugly. “We beat you on logic and eloquence. We have proved conclusively that—that—well, whatever it was is so. You haven’t a leg to stand on. The affirmative wins all along the line.”
“You wait until you hear from the jury,” said Alf darkly. “You fellows had the poorest lot of debaters that ever driveled. Why, that second speaker of yours didn’t know the subject! Just worked a lot of musty jokes, and——”
But at that moment the judges returned to the hall, the Glee Club cut off the last verse of the song they were struggling with and Mr. Austin advanced smilingly to the front of the platform.
“Good old Stevie,” murmured Tom. “He knows!”
“Yes, and you’ll know in a minute,” whispered Dan.
That wasn’t literally correct, for Mr. Austin had several things to say before he announced the verdict. In Alf’s language, he walked around the stump a dozen times. He said nice things about Cambridge and nice things about Oxford. He complimented each speaker and indulged in a few criticisms. And finally he awarded the victory to Oxford!